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from the group early on and don’t remember much of what happened. They are horrible liars and they know it, but no matter what I say, they will not tell me more.
    Honorine has left for her uncle’s estate a good two weeks’ ride south, by the sea. That is what her head of household tells me when I come calling.
    Brigitte is nervous during my visit. Her hands shake as she drinks her tea. She doesn’t try to seduce me even once. That, more than anything, tells me that something is wrong.
    I find Adeline at Adrien’s house. As the only child of a senile father, she has more freedom than other young women to do as she pleases. I am not one to judge, nor do I care whose bed the woman chooses to warm. What I find curious is that Adrien tells me straight away he has asked for Adeline’s hand and she consented. They are to be married in the spring. After that announcement I don’t have the stomach to ask them about the Faery court.
    Firmin is in debtors’ prison. I am not allowed near him unless it is with a promissory note to pay off his debts. I leave him to his troubles. I have my own to straighten out.
    Finally, there is only Louis left. I think long and hard about riding through Fauve to see him.
    That a man would go to such lengths over a woman as to shun his friend for having slept with her baffles me. I don’t even know what Louis is so upset about—we shared women before.
    Nevertheless, he is upset enough that I know there’s little chance he will tell me anything of what’s happened that night. No, I will not be going to Louis.
    Which means I only have one option left. As the sun begins to set, I ride headlong to the wooden shack and the hag with her tarot deck.

    Chapter Eight
    The hag is expecting me. A stool is set before the barrel and she has her cards in hand. It looks exactly like the deck I have in my pocket. I take it out, frowning. The curtain door to the Faery court billows with a life of its own, drawing my eye. The cloth is darker than I remember it, more tattered, yet it still won’t show even a glimpse of what’s behind it. A soft, warm breeze wafts my way, and I could swear it sigh my name.
    The hag waves me to sit and flips the top card of her deck. The King of Pentacles.
    I shuffle my deck and place it on the barrel. My first card is The Hierophant. I half grin at this odd way of greeting. “I want to know what happened to my friends,” I say, already knowing she won’t tell me.
    She turns the next card and it is The World. A vague answer that still somehow makes sense.
    The world, the Faery court, did something to them. It certainly changed me, just as Louis said it would.
    The curtain snaps and billows in a nonexistent wind, demanding my attention. The tarot deck will not tell me which of the Faery killed Liliane, or why Honorine suddenly felt the need to escape to the sea. To find that out I’ll need to ask someone who speaks. “Yes,” I say, finding the prospect of stepping foot in that strange land again is not as unwelcome as I expected. “I want to enter the Faery court again.”
    The hag shakes her head. It’s not a refusal, more disbelief. She thinks I’m lying? “I want to know what happened,” I repeat.
    The hag shakes her head again and points to my cards. I turn the next one. The Queen of Cups. Now the hag nods. The curtain settles, as if satisfied I’ve made a liar of myself. Even when I try to be noble my true motives betray me. I haven’t come all this way to have a tarot conversation with the hag about my companions—who cares? If Louis, my oldest and closest friend is so quick to shun me over a female, then what good are the rest of them?
    The hag turns her card. The Fool.
    Without a word, I turn mine. The Wheel of Fortune. I suppose I’ll have to take my chances, whatever they may be.
    The hag turns The Hermit and swivels it around to face me as if to say, “Remember this?”
    I do. The monster hiding under a cloak. My card counters it—Strength. There is